


Something Precious

by RavenGrey



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Hair-pulling, Kissing, Lavellan inquisitor, M/M, Rough Sex, blasphemy?, porn with snark, this is pretty much just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3983608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenGrey/pseuds/RavenGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Naive? Me? Perish the thought darling.” Dorian leers pleasantly, heart doing an odd little flip that is as delightful as it is confusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Precious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicbubblepipe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicbubblepipe/gifts).



> I'm in love with Dorian??? Also mine and magicbubblepipe's inquisitor, so I wrote so much porn? So much. Picture of the bae down below.

                                                                                                          

 

             It isn’t the first time Varin has been on his knees in front of another person. Perhaps the 7th or 8th.

            It is, however, the first time he’s been on his knees, wearing nothing but his shorts, in front of an _exceptionally_ gorgeous man in his unnecessarily extravagant personal quarters, with the aforementioned man’s hand fisted in his long, loose hair.

            He still feels a little odd in the large, spacious rooms. He’d spent all his life as a nomad, sleeping under the stars and going where he pleased, but now he has so much space to himself that he hardly knows what to do with it.

 Well, he has a few ideas and they mostly include the man currently smiling wickedly down at him.

            “I’d say you should have bought me a drink first, but that would imply a sense of taste on your part.” Varin murmurs wryly, pushing his head back into Dorian’s hand to ease some of the pull on his hair.

             He looks up at him from under dark, thick lashes, eyes flashing when Dorian takes up the slack and keep his hold on Varin’s hair tight. His knees are still stinging from where they’d met the stone floor after Dorian had swept his legs out from under him.

             Literally, swept his knees out from under him. He likes to think that if he hadn’t spent the past week wading through sand and fighting off rogue beasts that he might have been able to respond more quickly.

            To be fair, he’d only just finished washing the sand out of places he _really_ shouldn’t have had sand and his response had been sluggish, at best, when Dorian had placed a boot on the outside of his knee and kicked ever-so-gently.

            Dorian laughs, a warm, husky sound that has heat pooling low in Varin’s belly and murmurs teasingly “It also implies that you’re worth buying a drink.” The words have absolutely no bite and Varin levels a glittering smile his way.

            He runs his fingers through the Varin’s slightly damp hair, smirking fondly down at him. He hadn’t meant to ambush the Inquisitor fresh out of his bath, but the opportunity had been too good to miss.

            And the mage just looks so delicious with his hair free of its elaborate braids, hanging loose around his shoulders and clinging to his slender neck, how could he be expected to resist such a temptation?

             He brushes his hand through Varin’s hair, carefully untangling knots when he comes to them. Varin’s head lolls, eyes slitted with pleasure, and Dorian runs his fingers through it a few more times to watch the way his mouth goes slack with pleasure.

            Varin’s hair is surprisingly silky, slipping easily through Dorian’s fingers and when he winds a thick lock of it around his gloved hand, Varin makes the loveliest sound. A low, breathy gasp that spills past full lips and goes right to Dorian’s very interested cock.

            Varin looks up at him, brilliant blue-green eyes half-lidded. “Straight to sweet talk, I see,” He purrs warmly, neck strained as Dorian winds another coil of hair around his hand “let’s see where that gets you.”

Dorian’s hand in his hair walks the fine edge between hurt and pleasure beautifully and he moans quietly. His head is tilted so he’s looking directly up into Dorian’s candlelit face. He looks striking, in the soft candlelight and is well aware of the fact.

            “Hopefully into your bed.” Dorian replies, soft as sin and twice as compelling. He thumbs Varin’s cupid’s bow. Dorian feels the sharp little intake of breath Varin takes as he rubs his thumb over Varin’s bottom lip. He keeps the pressure light and Varin’s eyelids flutter.

            “You don’t need sweet talk to get me to bed Dorian,” his voice is husky and he knows he looks a mess “not when you look at me like that.” His lips move against Dorian’s thumb when he speaks and his breath ghosts hot over the palm of Dorian’s hand.

            “ _Oh_ , now that’s _cheating,_ you know I simply can’t resist that mouth of yours.” Dorian makes a sound, something between a moan and a sigh that makes Varin’s ears burn. He presses his thumb harder against the center of Varin’s bottom lip, feels the line of his teeth beneath his plush lip.

             He parts his lips, still looking up at Dorian, and keeps his lips loose as Dorian pushes his thumb into the heat of Varin’s mouth.

             Dorian is cupping his jaw and when he sucks hard and bites down just the littlest bit, he feels fingers dig into his cheek. Dorian lets out a harsh puff of breath above him and Varin’s lips curve up at the corners.

            “You really didn’t expect me to play fair, did you, after you ambushed me?” He murmurs, letting off Dorian’s thumb with a last flick to lean forward to press his lips against the tent in Dorian’s skin-tight trousers. The resultant tug sends sharp little zings of pleasure all down his spine and makes him feel light-headed.

            These trousers are different than the ones he wears in battle and they definitely have Varin’s approval. The leather is thin and hugs the muscled curve of his calves and the truly glorious swell of his arse.

             “ _Of course_ I did, you’re so goody-goody all the time, I’d hardly suspect _you_ of foul play.” If he’d said it any other way Varin thinks he _might_ have taken offence, but his voice is almost gasping and his hand is tight in Varin’s hair.

            “Not all the time, lath, and maybe next time you won’t be so naive.” He rumbles deviously and drags the flat of his tongue over Dorian’s clothed cock.

            “ _Naive_? _Me?_ Perish the thought darling.” Dorian leers pleasantly, heart doing an odd little flip that is as delightful as it is confusing. His cock throbs, already incredibly hard from Varin’s minute ministrations and his breaths are coming quicker than he’d like.

             A bead of pre-come pearls on the head of his cock and smears against the leather when Varin nuzzles his cheek against the tent of his erection. He tries to recall the last time he’d seen anything so breathtakingly arousing and comes up short.

            “You’re going to absolutely ruin the leather darling, if you slobber all over it.” Dorian sighs dramatically, even though his hips jerk towards Varin’s face and his eyelids are heavy.

             “If you were worried about your _pants_ you should have worn something else to your little ambush.” Varin says dryly and then scrapes his teeth over Dorian’s arousal. Dorian’s hips buck and he gasps, pretty lips falling open as he sucks in a hard breath. Varin steadies him with a hand on his arse when he sways.

             “Fair enough.” Dorian murmurs with a smile that makes Varin’s pulse jump. Dorian’s cock is straining against his trousers and Varin catches one loop of the bow tying Dorian’s breeches closed and tugs it free.

              The slack loosens the laces enough that Varin can see Dorian’s hard length peeping through. It makes his mouth water and he presses another open-mouthed kiss to where he’s fairly sure the head of Dorian’s sex is.

             

              “Maker, your mouth should be considered a _sin_.” Dorian groans, low and needy, and Varin’s cock _aches_. He slides his tongue over the intricate laces, tongue flicking briefly over Dorian’s skin. He tastes vaguely of salt and whatever scented oil he uses in the bath.

             “Or a blessing.” He murmurs impishly and Dorian gasps in mock shock “The _blasphemy_ dear Inquisitor!”

              He reaches up when Dorian’s hips twitch and grips the firm swell of Dorian’s arse to tug him closer. Dorian comes easily, adjusting his grip on Varin’s hair so his neck still strains against his hold. A sly smile tugs at the corners of Varin’s mouth and he blows over the gaps in the laces.

             “Oh _please_ , I’m dalish Dorian, _dalish_.” He’s almost embarrassed by how obscene he feels in that moment, but Dorian’s canting his hips towards Varin’s eager mouth and Varin’s doing his best to ease Dorian’s trousers down over his hips.

              “I’ve always wondered how the whole ‘ _Herald of Andraste’_ thingworked for a dalish mage, considering you worship the Creators.” His eyes are dancing in the candle-light as he looks down at Varin, equal parts curiosity and lust.

             “It stuck and absolutely no-one listened when I tried to argue otherwise.” He admits. He’d accepted the title with relative grace once he’d realized that the hope of the people was tied to it.

              His people. He’s surprised to find how much he’s willing to give for the rag-tag collection of beings that had followed him with such blind faith  

              “People can be so stubborn when they’re clinging to vaguest shreds of hope.” Dorian tosses out in a lofty tone and Varin gives him a look that borders on bitchy.

             “I’ve noticed.” His tone is purposely breathy and Dorian smirks, a quick lip bite betraying his amusement at Varin’s catty response.

              He finally manages to tug Dorian’s trousers down to his thighs and is shocked out of his faux hurt. “ _Dirthamen_ , you are absolutely _gorgeous_.”  

              “Yes, yes I am. I thought we’d already established that?” He still manages to sound devilish despite his apparent lack of breath, head tipping back as Varin admires the slight curve of his cock. He does so love being admired.

              It’s a very nice cock, Varin thinks, eyeing a vein that runs along the underside that just begs to be licked. So Varin does. He drags his tongue along the bottom of Dorian’s length, making the hand in his hair jerk, and presses a kiss to the tip of Dorian’s arousal when he comes to it.

             “We had,” Varin agrees, tongue flicking out to taste the pre-come collecting there “but if someone doesn’t remind you daily, you might forget how devastatingly handsome you are and we just can’t have that.”

              There’s the familiar taste of musk spreading out over his tongue, with just a hint of something sweet. It’s almost confusing and Varin licks his lips curiously. He brings his free hand up to steady Dorian’s length and swirls his tongue over his wet head.

              The topic of religion behind them, Varin goes back to work trying to get Dorian behind him.

             There’s that lingering hint of sweet on his tongue and after he experimentally delves his tongue into Dorian’s slit he pulls back for just a moment. He licks his lips curiously and ventures another taste, Dorian’s cock twitching in his hand.

               He looks up at Dorian, question on the tip of his tongue, only to have it die when he realizes Dorian’s looking at him with such a hunger that it steals his breath. He’s covered in a light sheen of sweat and the hand in Varin’s hair is gripping so tightly that if Varin weren’t incredibly aroused it might have hurt.

             “Wouldn’t want that, my poor ego couldn’t possibly handle a blow like that.” Dorian’s pupils are blown and his cheeks are flushed. He’s positively aching, but Varin is the perfect tease and he can’t find it in himself to begrudge him his toying caresses.

             “Your esteem can’t afford to sink any lower.” Varin simpers and Dorian laughs the laugh that makes Varin’s pulse race. He’s beautiful when he laughs and if Varin were standing he’d have gone weak in the knees.

              He’s not though, so he gets to admire the flash of teeth and the way the corners of Dorian’s mouth curve up, like he’s got a secret and maybe he’s willing to share.

             “Think you’ve teased me enough, amatus?” Dorian inquires lowly when his chuckles die out and Varin gives him such a look that his cock twitches in Varin’s hand. There’s heat in his blood, curling wickedly in his veins and it’s all because of that one little word. _Amatus_.

             He’d never imagined he would become so utterly besotted by a Tevinter mage, but here he is. If his Keeper could see him now, he thinks, shaking his head ruefully.

             Varin leans down to swipe his tongue up Dorian’s toned thigh before taking the head of him into his mouth. He sucks hard, tongue flicking against the underside, and swallows about half of him down.

             He bobs his head, keeping his tongue flat and his jaw loose, so Dorian slides smoothly between his lips. It’s a heady sensation, having Dorian in his mouth and he groans quietly. The vibrations translate beautifully and Varin relaxes his throat when Dorian’s hips buck of their own accord. He doesn’t choke, thank the Creators, and then Dorian’s thrusting shallowly into his mouth.

             “ _Maker.”_ Dorian gasps, head thrown back as the heat of Varin’s mouth envelopes him. His tongue is hot and wet and Dorian feels his balls tighten. Which, honestly, is just embarrassing, because they’ve only just begun. He wraps his fingers tight around the base of his cock and waits until the churning heat in his belly quiets.

             Varin, the little shit he is, takes him deep into his mouth and sucks him hard. His lips nudge against Dorian’s hand and his tongue flicks along the underside of his purpling dick. Dorian hisses through his teeth, the tendons in his forearm standing out from how tightly he’s gripping his dick.

             “I’m _Varin_ , although I see how you could make the mistake.” He says huskily when he pulls back, head tipped up and cheeks flushed. His dark red hair is spilling around his shoulders, curling slightly, and his lips are slick with spit.

              His eyelashes lower when he reaches up to wipe his lips clean and Dorian finds the demure act surprisingly charming even if it’s driving him to the brink of orgasm.

             Dorian brushes his thumb over Varin’s tattooed cheek and shakes his head, torn between amusement and the urge to beg for mercy. “Any more blasphemy from you and I’m to going to have to make you confess to Mother Giselle.”

              He inwardly cringes at the fact that he just brought up the revered mother when Varin had his cock in his mouth not 10 seconds ago.

              Varin arches an eyebrow and replaces Dorian’s fingers with his own. His grip is tight and merciless. Dorian wonders, somewhere in the very back of his mind, how he’d never noticed how deliciously calloused Varin’s hands are.

              “If you want to come any time soon, at least with me in the room,” he starts patiently and he looks like he’s torn between laughter and horror, “then you will never bring up _Mother Giselle_ while I’m on my knees, with my lips around your-”

            “Terribly sorry dear, won’t happen again.” He interrupts and actually looks a little embarrassed. On the plus side, his erection has flagged enough that he isn’t in danger of coming on himself.

 Varin shakes his head and pats Dorian’s hip with only a little condescension. His knees complain when he gets his feet under him, but he ignores it and rises fluidly to his feet.

              Dorian lets his hand slip through Varin’s hair and instead settles a hot hand on Varin’s hip. He’s still incredibly hard, even after his unfortunate slip-up, and he hopes he won’t be spending the rest of his evening alone. 

              His hand doesn’t once leave Dorian’s cock and the heavy weight of him against Varin’s rough palm is heady. He runs his thumb through the slick mess on the tip of Dorian’s cock and brings it to his mouth.

             The only sound Dorian can make is a desperate “ _oh_ ” that slips like liquid fire down Varin’s spine and pushes him so dangerously close to the edge he has to dig the heel of his palm against the base of his cock.

            “I should hope not,” he murmurs, pressing himself to Dorian’s chest and letting his lips flutter against Dorian’s “There are a hundred of absolutely filthy things I’d love to do with you in my bed chambers. Discussing my religious views with Mother Giselle is not among them.”

            “Only a hundred?” Dorian can almost taste himself on Varin’s lips.

             He hears Dorian swallow, a loud sound heard easily over the occasional crackle of candles, and he chuckles quietly, only a little exasperated “Tell me, emma lath, do you plan on taking me to bed anytime soon or am I to spend the rest of the night consumed with want?”

             “Think I’m going to have to go with that first one, although the latter most certainly paints a pretty picture.” His lips skim up the side of Varin’s neck as he guides him back towards the edge of the bed.

             “Hmmm, let’s see if that pretty picture lets you come in its arse.” The backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he flops back onto the huge mattress. He slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle the mortified laugh that builds in his throat while Dorian looks at him with surprised appreciation. Varin feels the bed shift as Dorian braces a knees between his legs.

             Dorian chuckles, a distinctly dirty sound, and eases Varin’s hand away so he can kiss the corner of his frowning mouth.

              “I’d much rather come in yours, if it’s all the same to you.” Dorian murmurs wickedly and slides down to press an open-mouthed kiss to the wet spot on the front of Varin’s shorts. Varin’s hand jerk to Dorian’s shoulders and his nails dig crescents into the skin of Dorian’s back.

             “I definitely wouldn’t mind it.” His voice is gasping and his skin feels like it’s burning when Dorian’s clever mouth closes over the head of his cock.

              He traces the clear outline of Varin’s lovely dick with his tongue, steadying his hips when they buck, and takes a moment to appreciate how breath-taking the Inquisitor is. The flush of his cheeks sits high on his freckled cheekbones and his lips are parted ever-so-slightly as he sucks in quick breath after quick breath.

             Dorian traces the line of his hips, slips his fingers just under the band of his shorts and strokes the line of his cock with greedy fingers.

             He breathes an appreciative sigh when Varin starts to squirm and pushes away from the bed to stand with his back to Varin.

              Varin’s really not sure how manages it, but he slips out of his skin-tight pants with a surprising amount of grace. His top follows shortly after and then Varin has an unimpeded view of Dorian’s fantastic arse and Varin wants very much for him to come back to bed.

             “Dorian.” Varin whines, dropping his head back to the bed with a groan. “Get your perfect arse back here or so help me.”

             “Patience, dear inquisitor, is a virtue.” Dorian calls over his shoulder as he heads to the backroom for the oil he’d left from their last encounter.

              “There’s nothing virtuous about what we’re doing, we’ve already established that.” Varin calls out and Dorian’s laugh filters back to him.

            A few seconds tic by and Varin’s impatience gets the better of him. He moves so he’s in the middle of the bed and rolls over onto his stomach. He eases the thin shorts he wears under his armor down his hips and tosses them to the floor with an absent flick.

            The fine silks of his sheets are so unfamiliar against the bare skin, but nice all the same and he runs his fingers over the delicate fabric. Dorian’s still puttering around in the back, his search for oil not going quite as quickly as he’d hoped. He’s touched by the care Dorian puts into preparing him, in between being absolutely impatient and eager for his lover’s cock.

             He smothers a devious laugh into his pillow and sucks two fingers into his mouth. When they’re good and wet, he reaches back and circles his spit-slick fingers around his entrance. He presses the first in without any pre-amble, all the way up to the second knuckle, and starts to work himself open with short thrusts.

              It burns a little, not enough to deter him, but enough to make him hungry for more. His inner muscles clench down around his fingers and he groans lowly, rocking back onto the single digit and adding another with relative ease. It helps that he’d started the process while he was in the tub.

             It’s been at least 10 minutes since Dorian had left him on the bed and Varin’s tempted to go help him look if it’ll move things along.

             “How’s your naked search going, lath?” Varin calls out when he has 3 fingers buried in his arse and is panting almost steadily as he fucks back onto his fingers. He’s still achingly hard, but the dull burn of opening himself offsets the blinding arousal quite well.

             “Oh, screw you.” Dorian calls back, exasperated and a little discouraged as he checks yet another shelf with no luck. If he has to walk all the way back to his quarters to get oil he thinks he might actually die. Of embarrassment or unsatisfied desire, he’s not sure.

             “That was the plan.” Varin replies, surprised and pleased by how level his voice sounds despite the fact that he’s 3 fingers deep. There’s a pause and then “I walked right into that one.”

             “Yes, yes you did. Did you check the third shelf on the far wall? Behind the elfroot tonic and just in front of the burn salve?”

             “Of course I did-” Dorian starts haughtily, only to stop short with a quiet “oh” that Varin barely hears over the sound of his chuckles.

             “Shut it.” Dorian huffs when he comes back out, oil in hand, to find Varin with his pert, freckled ass high in the air. What really draws his attention however, is the way Varin’s hole is stretched tight around 3 of his fingers.

             “You took too long.” Varin explains breathlessly, turning his head to look at Dorian. He doesn’t remove his fingers, just rolls his hips back and groans shamelessly. Dorian climbs onto the bed, lithe as any cat, and moves to where Varin is with a predatory gleam in his quicksilver eyes.

             He slicks up his fingers, leisurely heating the oil between his hands and watching the way Varin’s fingers disappear inside of him quick and hard.

             “If you don’t put your cock in me this second I’ll go find someone who will.” Varin threatens over his shoulder, not entirely sure he’s joking. Dorian groans heatedly and wraps a hand around himself, slicking himself with a hasty stroke. He settles himself between Varin’s legs, lining himself up almost the instant Varin’s fingers slide free and move to fist in the fine sheets.

               Varin’s back arches when he feels Dorian’s blunt tip press against his hole and he moans, loud and desperate at the promise of being filled. Dorian doesn’t get right to it like Varin wants, instead sliding a finger inside of him and curling it lazily.  

             “Dorian, _please_ , Creators sake please _fuck_ me.” He grunts, rolling his hips back eagerly. Dorian fists a hand in Varin’s hair, grips his hip with his free hand and rolls his hips forward.

              He sinks into Varin’s clenching heat with a groan, inch after inch swallowed up. His hips are flush to Varin’s ass, his cock buried so deeply inside of him that he can feel his pulse.

             “I’d hold on, if I were you.” Dorian purrs, pulling out so only the head of him is still inside and then sinking back in with a fierce roll of his hips. Dorian reaches around to stroke Varin’s cock, fingers tight and pace fast. Varin chokes on a groan, fists clenched so tightly in the sheets he fears he might rip them

              The stinging pain of Dorian’s hand in his hair might as well not exist as Dorian pounds into him, pulling a steady stream of ragged, gasping sounds from his throat. Dorian takes him with long, deep thrusts and Varin’s orgasm builds fierce and overwhelming in his belly

Dorian plasters himself to Varin’s back, tongue flicking out to taste a bead of sweat from Varin’s skin. He laves the tendon standing out on the side of Varin’s neck, scrapes his teeth over sweaty skin and twists his wrist just so and then Varin’s coming hard.

             His inner muscles slam down around Dorian, milking him for all he’s worth as Dorian strokes him through it. He cries out Dorian’s name, drops his head to the sheets and rocks back onto Dorian’s cock until he’s too tired to move.

             “ _Amatus_.” Dorian groans a few seconds before he comes, buried deep inside of Varin. The sound Varin makes burns its way through him, right alongside his orgasm and his fingertips dig bruises into Varin’s hips. He lowers his head until he can press his trembling lips against the lock of hair wrapped around his fist.

             Dorian thinks Varin might have come a second time, judging from the raspy moan that sounds like it’s pulled from somewhere deep inside him. Varin gasps when he unwinds his hand from his hair and kisses the base of his neck.

              Varin’s back is slick with sweat and Dorian trails his fingers down the curve of his spine. Dorian kisses the curve of his shoulder tenderly as he pulls out and drops down onto the bed next to a sated Varin.

             Varin turns to kiss him, tongue slipping into the seam of Dorian’s mouth and tasting him leisurely. He can feel Dorian’s slight smile against his lips and pulls away from the kiss to properly enjoy it. He lightly touches the upturned corner of Dorian’s mouth and smiles so tenderly at him that it makes Dorian’s chest ache in an unfamiliar way.

             “Hope I didn’t ruin the silk.” Varin mumbles, already half asleep and altogether not too worried about his sheets.

             “I’d ruin silk with you any day.” Dorian murmurs drowsily and rests his head in the hollow of Varin’s throat. He stretches himself out along Varin’s side. It’s Varin who takes him into his arms, entangles their legs and holds him close like he’s something precious.


End file.
